Saving Sherlock
by LsShinigamiRose
Summary: Alana just moved into the basement flat and found a cellphone waiting there, with an offer she couldn't refuse or her family would die. Now, she has to keep an eye on Sherlock, while trying to sort out her new life in London. It's not as easy as one would think. Rating it M now, merely for the plans I have in store.
1. The Case of the Cellphone

**First Sherlock story, I do hope I was able to keep him in character. Let me know what you think in a review!**

"Oh, hello dear! You've come early!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed from downstairs. Sherlock was momentarily distracted from playing his violin. He was seated in his chair, playing while John was on his computer, typing their latest case onto his blog. He attuned his senses to the sounds from downstairs, picking out the sounds of luggage being carried in and another voice he didn't recognize.

"I hope that's alright, I can stay at an inn if I'm too early. Shall I come back tomorrow, Mrs. Hudson?" Female, approximately 25 to 27 years old. Just moved to London from America, her accent was evident. Judging by the sounds of her luggage, she tried to pack all of the clothes she believed she would need, but will inevitably buy ones to replace them. She was modest and a generally kind person, but she had a fiery streak to her. But he would judge that once he met her. She would be an easy read.

"No, no! It's fine dearie, I just haven't informed the other tenants yet is all. Let's get those bags into your flat and we'll go up to introduce you." Mrs. Hudson said, beaming at her. The woman chuckled at the older woman and he heard them start to walk along the hall. Hm…They weren't coming up the stairs, meaning she didn't rent the flat just under their own. Why would she have chose the basement flat? It wasn't even fully painted. Sherlock started to play his violin again, causing John to groan slightly at his computer. He had been enjoying the silence.

Alana chuckled, putting her bags in the unfurnished room. She could hear the sound of someone playing a violin or maybe, trying to play a violin. She adored violins and most string instruments, but could not play one herself. She followed the elder woman back up the stairs up to another flat. The door was wide open, but Mrs. Hudson still knocked on the door anyway. A yell came from inside the flat, telling them to come in. Alana could see a man sitting in a chair, staring straight at her and Mrs. Hudson, as if he had already known they were on their way up there. He was the one who had been playing the violin and had immediately stopped when Mrs. Hudson knocked. He was looking her over and not in a lustful way. It was more like he was trying to see into the depths of her mind, her very being. It unnerved her, but interested her as well. There was another man sitting at a desk behind him, who turned and stood, walking over to them.

"Hello boys! This is our newest tenant, who just moved into the basement flat. This is Alana." Mrs. Hudson motioned to her, smiling before turning to look at Alana.

"This is Dr. John Watson and the man with the violin is Sherlock Holmes." Alana smiled as John moved forward and extended his hand for her to shake.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alana." She grinned at him, shaking his hand. She still felt the other man's eyes on her and she wondered how to greet him.

"Same to you Doctor."

"Please, just John. Doctor is only for when I'm on the job." He smiled back at her. They took back their hands and immediately focused on Sherlock, who had stood and made his way over to her. He had set his violin down on the table nearby, moving to observe her closer.

"You need new glasses. Your eyes are straining with your current ones. If you don't obtain new ones, your eyesight will continue to deteriorate until you are blind." She looked at him in shock, unconsciously adjusting her glasses out of nervous habit. He watched her for a moment before continuing.

"Alana Montoya. 27 years old. Just recently moved to London from America, somewhere in the south. Most likely North or South Carolina, judging from the accent and the condition of your hair. Grew up in a decent family home, this will be the first time you have moved out of your parent's home. You lost someone dear to you when you were 5, not by death. It changed how you acted, you became silent. Barely talking to anyone. It changed in middle school, where you met a group of girls that opened you up, only to cause you to shut down again. Just as you are trying to do now as I am reciting this."

"Sherlock! Behave!" Mrs. Hudson scolded the man, while Alana just shook her head. She smiled slightly.

"Wow, you're good. I give you credit for that." Sherlock could tell she was upset by the fact that he could see right through her and she made an effort to put up walls around her. He could still see through them, but it would be more difficult for other people to see through to her. He tilted his head slightly, watching as she built up the walls she normally hid behind to try and prevent people from getting close to her heart and hurting her. She had been hurt many times, he could tell. He could only decipher a few of them from her body language and her eyes. He was curious to know if it had all been betrayal or if there was other circumstances and why she would purposely act unfeeling after all this time.

"The same reason why you act the way you do, Mr. Holmes." She said, as if reading his mind. She was looking him over the same way he just did to her. Except she chose not to voice her deductions. She smiled at John and Mrs. Hudson, excusing herself to go unpack.

"It was lovely meeting you two, have a good evening." She parted with her final statement. John sighed and looked over at Sherlock, glaring at him slightly.

"Good job, you scared off our new neighbor." John scolded him. Sherlock moved back over to his chair, picking up his violin along the way.

"Quite the opposite actually, she's curious now. She'll return sometime soon." Sherlock stated, wondering how for a brief moment, she could see through him. This called for research and more observation.

"Why would she be curious?"

"She's not used to people so easily seeing through her façade. She wants to know how I did it, merely so she can try to improve it. Which is futile, I will always see through her façade."

"So, she doesn't hate us? Or rather you really."

"No. She will return, sometime this evening. We may or may not be here."

Alana returned to her flat, moving her luggage cases against the far wall. She looked around sighing. She had a lot of furniture to purchase. And a microwave, definitely a microwave. She didn't even have a chair or a bed. She decided that she would use her large robe that she had brought with her as a blanket and sleep on the floor with her head propped against one of her bags. She turned to look at the mantle and found a white box sitting on the mantle. She narrowed her eyes at it suspiciously, it hadn't been here a few minutes ago. She moved forward and poked the box, swiftly stepping back. When she didn't hear any odd sounds, she moved forward to pick it up and inspect it. She slowly opened the box and found a cellphone inside. It was similar to the one she had back in the US, a slide phone with a keyboard. She picked the cell up and set the box back on the mantle. She opened it up and turned it on, only to find a text already waiting.

'Welcome to London, darling.' The number was private, she wasn't sure whether to answer the text or not. She played with the phone, adjusting the settings and such to her liking. She wasn't sure where it came from, but she wasn't going to turn down such a gift. It didn't stop her from being suspicious though. She doubted that it came from Mrs. Hudson or one of the men from upstairs. So, who sent it? Her phone beeped, signaling she had received a text.

'How did you like meeting the two upstairs? Quite the pair, aren't they? Especially Holmes.' Private number again.

'They're interesting.' Was all that she replied back.

'Now, now darling. Don't try to lie to me.' She raised a brow at the phone and received another message before she could reply.

'I know you want to find out more about Sherlock and his little doctor. Be my eyes and you shall be rewarded.' She snorted slightly, shaking her head.

'What are you? His worried mother or something?'

'No. But his brother will come to you offering the same, he cannot be trusted.'

'And you can?'

'Yes. Now, do you accept? Or shall I bring out the threats?' Her eyes widened and she lifted her hand to throw the phone against the wall to smash it, but was stopped when she received another message.

'If you destroy the phone or tell anyone, they will die.' She made her hands move to reply.

'Who will?'

'All those you hold dear to you. Your sisters, your brother, your nieces and nephews. I have the exact location of every one of them and a sniper trained on their heads, all the way back in America.'

'Fine! I agree!' She replied, tears forming in her eyes. She felt them start to run down her cheeks at the thought of her family lying on the ground, dead. Blood spilling from their heads. But what if Sherlock saw through her?

'Marvelous! Expect frequent texts from me.'

'What if Sherlock sees through me and finds out?'

'That's why I chose you, brilliant mind you have there. You know exactly how to hide from people, but you choose not to. You'd rather them see that you're not as heartless as they seem to think. But you really are, aren't you? You won't let Sherlock find out, now will you?'

'Who are you?' She couldn't help but ask. She had to know, maybe she could even tell Sherlock without actually saying anything to him.

'Tell him and they die. Don't ruin it so early in the game! You'll take away all the fun!' She never received an answer after that. It wasn't until after she had cried herself to sleep, that she received a text.

'You can call me Jim, darling.'


	2. Chinese?

**I think I'm going to need a Brit corrector, or something of that sort. I've honestly no idea what or how they say things in England. Would anyone like to help? Send me a private message if you're interested. **

**Let me know what you think in a review! **

She woke up, her face feeling stiff from her dried tears. She sat up, looking at her phone. 11:23. She heard shuffling upstairs and figured it was the two that lived way above her. She sat up, looking around and vaguely wondered if they had left a phone charger for her. She looked around and saw the charger plugged in the wall just above the kitchen counter. She had forgotten about the kitchen and groaned at the thought of having to buy even more appliances and such to furnish her place. She shook her head, she had thought about all this way before she actually moved here. At least there was a refrigerator. She stood, moving over to put her phone on charge and was moving to go out the door to ask the boys upstairs for a bit to eat when her phone beeped. She turned around to glare at it, but moved back towards it to read the message. She had two messages now.

'You can call me Jim, darling.' Was the first. So, it was a man that wanted to know about Sherlock. Jealous lover maybe? She closed the message and was surprised to see that it deleted itself from her phone. She raised a brow, but opened the second message.

'I did say you will be rewarded, and you will. Go to the café down the street tomorrow, there's only one, and have a cup on me. There will be a surprise waiting for you when you return home.'

'What are you planning, Jim?' She replied back to him, wondering if he would actually answer her.

'The entire game, darling. I've already planned out the whole thing. ;)' The wink smiley did nothing to reassure her or give any info on what he had planned. She closed her phone and moved back to her door, making sure she had her keys in her pocket. She locked her door behind her and moved up the stairs, seeing the door to their apartment still wide open. She moved to the door and knocked softly. She figured it would be better to ask them, than wake up Mrs. Hudson at this time of night. John moved to see the door and smiled when he saw her, inviting her in.

"Hello Miss Alana, what brings you here?" She inwardly smirked, he knew that she would come back up here to see them. Sherlock's doing, no doubt.

"I came to ask if you would happen to know where I can get a bite to eat at this time of night? I haven't stocked my fridge yet."

"And it's not miss. If I can't call you Doctor, you can't call me miss. Agreed?" She smiled at him and he chuckled.

"Agreed. There's a Chinese place just down the street that stays open until 2am. I was just about to head out to get some food for Sherlock and I. Would you like to walk there together?" He offered as he put on his jacket and grabbed his cane. She grinned at him.

"I would love to." Her grin fell as soon as she spotted Sherlock laying on the sofa, his hands poised like he was either praying or imitating a pyramid. She felt herself immediately close up and John noticed the change on her face. He grimaced at seeing her close up and made a note to scold Sherlock again for it.

Sherlock, on the other hand, chose to ignore them both. He was too deep in thought, even though they hadn't received a new case yet. He was trying to figure out how she read him, even if it was just for a moment. She was smart, he was able to tell that. But even so, she shouldn't have been able to see through him. Was she a mind reader? He dismissed that thought immediately. Not enough evidence to support that train of thought.

"Sherlock, Alana and I are going to walk down to the Chinese restaurant." John told him before he walked out of the room. He knew not to expect an answer. Alana stayed just a moment to observe Sherlock before following John out. As soon as they hit the sidewalk outside, John started talking.

"I'm sorry about Sherlock." She turned her head to smile at him. He started to lead the way down the street. She chuckled.

"It's fine. I will admit that's the first time I've been greeted like that though. Is he always like that?" She asked him, watching as he just shook his head.

"Always. It only gets worse if he hasn't had a case in a while." They continued to chat, not only about Sherlock, but the sort of things they both did with their lives. Her job was one of the main topics. They were leaning against the counter of the restaurant, waiting for their food. They had paid beforehand.

"So, you're a chef? Really?" She laughed at his expression, but nodded.

"I came here for a job, and to start my own business in time. I don't expect that to happen for a few years though."

"Shouldn't you be cooking then, instead of ordering take out?" He asked her, smiling. Alana chuckled.

"Sometimes we like breaks from cooking, it's nice to have someone else do the cooking once in a while." She smirked at him, picking up her bag of food. He picked up his own as soon as they set it on the counter and they started back home.

"I can only imagine. Do you really enjoy cooking that much?" She shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"It's entertaining, although I do prefer making pastries and cakes to cooking steaks and the whatnot." John's eyes lit up slightly.

"Pastries? Do you make them often?"

"I try to make some every week. Why? Would you like me to bring some up for you two when I make them?" And I'll have to make some for Mrs. Hudson as well. She added as an afterthought. They had returned home and Alana was just about to wish John goodnight when he spoke.

"Would you like to come up and eat with us? I know Sherlock and I are not the best company, but it's better than eating alone." He smiled at her, hopeful. Alana returned the smile.

"I would love to."


	3. NOTICE

I'm sorry about the lack of updates. I've lost everything that I've written for all of my stories and school work. All of my stories are being put on a hiatus until further notice. I hope to continue them soon, but I'm not sure when I'll be back on my feet to be able to do that.

I'm so sorry about this. Thank you all for favoriting and liking my stories! I'm glad that my little stories bring happiness to people, at least a little bit. 


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